


The Choices We Make

by AislinMarue



Series: Destiel - Castiel/Dean Winchester [35]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF!Castiel, Choices, Consequences, Decisions, Destiel - Freeform, Fallen Angels, First Time, Fluff, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hunter Training, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pie, Post Season 8, Protective Dean Winchester, hurt!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinMarue/pseuds/AislinMarue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, now human, faces the decision of whether or not to step up and fight along side the Winchesters. He knows the life of a hunter is far from easy, yet Castiel's existence has been anything but easy, after all. In time, they will find out whether the former angel's choice was the right one or doomed to end in failure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choices Faced, Decisions Made

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a completely random thought so I sat down to start writing it and see where it went. A multi-chapter story hadn't even crossed my mind, but here we are. More will be posted as it becomes available. I look forward to your feedback! <3

He didn’t know what he wanted. But he knew the time had come to choose. Whether there was any right or wrong choice, Castiel had no idea. All he could do was hope that if there truly was, he would do the right thing.

Being a human was more overwhelming than he would have ever imagined it to be. Even his brief stint as an almost human years ago had been nothing compared to this. He found himself wondering so many times how human beings managed it, day after day. But he supposed if one didn’t know any differently then how could they fault the way things were and always had been?

He’d asked Sam perhaps a week after his arrival at the bunker, after the angels had fallen, how humans were able to cope with such a wealth of strong emotions and the younger Winchester had shrugged and replied that they just did. That was how things were.

The answer made sense after Castiel had given it quite a bit of thought. Though he had struggled with a wealth of his own emotions in the wake of becoming human, he’d been told that it was normal and, in time, he would adapt. Humans were good at adapting, after all. He would learn.

In truth, once he had mastered the basic tasks of everyday things like changing his clothes and keeping up with his personal hygiene, remembering to eat and drink, it hadn’t been so bad. He’d discovered food and beverages he enjoyed very much and ones he absolutely hated. 

He and Dean had made a game of it one night, staying up until the early hours of the morning and introducing Castiel to different kinds of food just to see what he liked. Castiel had eaten so much that night he spent the entire day afterward in bed with a miserably upset stomach. Dean had spent the entire day getting chewed out by Sam. 

They’d enjoyed the night, though. Castiel would endure endless days of having an upset stomach for that. Dean had smiled, laughed, treated Castiel like a friend again and Cas had treasured every moment, not hesitating to try every bit of food Dean offered him. It had been the best night he could remember having in a very, very long time. For someone who was once timeless, that was saying something.

It brought a smile to his face as he stood at the sink in the kitchen. Clad in one of Dean’s old t-shirts and jeans, barefoot, he was washing the dishes from breakfast that morning. 

He’d asked Sam to instruct him on basic housekeeping so he could help out around the bunker instead of use up resources without giving anything in return. It was nice. It made him feel useful again to help Sam and Dean even with such simple tasks as washing the dishes or sweeping the floor. And it was wonderfully easy to lose himself in cleaning. He could often be found humming old rock songs he’d heard thanks to Dean’s cassette collection in the Impala.

He was doing so now as he scrubbed a frying pan Sam had cooked eggs with earlier. “Enter Sandman” by Metallica seemed to be one of his favorites as he hummed the familiar chorus while he worked.

It was like this that Dean found him, entering the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge. The hunter paused, his approach unheard over the rushing water from the faucet. A grin curled his lips as he heard the low hum the former angel was emitting, his head shaking slightly.

“Made you into a rock fan huh?” he asked to announce his presence, continuing on his aborted path to the fridge for his drink.

Castiel had jumped slightly in surprise, the humming ceasing in his shock. He rolled his eyes at Dean, looking back to his work.

“You listen to it often enough I may as well have it memorized by now,” he pointed out, setting the frying pan on the drainer then starting on the glasses that were submerged in the soapy water.

“Yeah, but you like it. Don’t deny it.” Dean grinned as he pulled off the top on the beer bottle, lifting it briefly in salute to Cas before taking a healthy pull from it.

“I can neither confirm nor deny your delusions,” Castiel said in a flat monotone, familiar from his days as an angel. Though Dean could not see the mirth dancing in his blue eyes from his position by the fridge.

“Whatever, man, just avoid the rap and country stations on the radio and you’ll be fine.” Dean plopped into a chair at the table, taking another drink from his bottle.

“Noted.” Now Castiel looked over his shoulder, letting Dean see the amused smile on his lips which was quickly returned by the hunter.

Castiel turned back to the sink, setting a clean glass into the drainer. The matter of the choice he had to make hadn’t escaped him, however, and he lost several long moments to further contemplation.

The kitchen was filled with only the sound of running water and the metallic clinking of silverware in the sink for a short while before Dean finally spoke.

“What’s on your mind?” Green eyes studied the man’s back intently, brow slightly furrowed.

Cas breathed a quiet sigh, setting the last of the dishes into the drainer to dry then turning the faucet off. He reached for a towel, drying off his hands as he turned to face Dean and lean back against the edge of the counter.

Dean let him have a moment to gather himself, noting that Castiel seemed to be considering his response. The hunter felt dread pooling in his gut, however, wondering if the time had come that he’d been fearing since Castiel first arrived at the bunker, human and broken. Would now be the time Castiel told him he was leaving? He’d been waiting for it, fearing it, though he’d never said a word or done anything to indicate it was a concern for him. Now all he could do was wait and see what Castiel had to say.

Cas finally met Dean’s gaze after what had seemed like an eternity to the hunter. He didn’t waver at all when he spoke, his choice made, but the words were far from what Dean had expected to hear.

“I want to become a hunter.”

Dean had heard those words once before, months ago when Castiel had been afraid to return to Heaven, afraid of what he might see and do when he got there. It left him fearful to hear them again and it must have shown in his eyes because Castiel hurriedly continued.

“I need a purpose, Dean. And I want to help you and Sam. I like helping out around the bunker very much. I like feeling useful again. But I need to do more. I was a warrior of God for millennia, but I’m not an angel anymore. That doesn’t mean I can’t still fight. That I can’t be a warrior at all anymore.”

He moved to take a seat beside Dean after setting the dish towel down on the counter. There was such an earnest, determined look in those blue eyes that Dean found himself trapped in them, unable to speak. The fear shifted to worry, though there was a massive rush of relief in the fact that Castiel wasn’t leaving. He wanted to stay. Wanted to be part of their team, their family.

“Please, would you consider training me? If I’m going to do this, become a hunter, I’m going to need to know how to use more than just a blade. I refuse to be a weak link that you have to keep an eye on every time we have an altercation with a monster of some sort. I want to be able to hold my own in a fight and be more versatile a fighter,” he insisted, his hands clasped on the tabletop with his gaze now shifting to them instead of Dean.

“I’ll worry about you no matter what,” Dean found himself saying, shifting to lean forward and mirroring Castiel’s position, “We’re family, Cas. I’ll always worry. No matter how good a hunter you become, that’s just the way it’s gonna be. And you’re far from useless. But if you’re sure this is something you really want to do, you know me and Sam’ll train you.”

Warmth surged in Castiel’s heart when Dean referred to him as family. It left him unable to speak thanks to the lump that had lodged itself firmly in his throat. All he could do was offer a wavering smile in response along with a nod, reaching over to cover Dean’s hand with his own to squeeze it gently in thanks.

Dean set aside his reservations, smiling at Cas. He turned his hand under Cas’ to link their fingers, giving the fallen angel something to hold onto.

“Whatever you want to do, okay? I’ll help you however I can. Sam and everyone else will, too,” Dean murmured, bring his other hand up to cradle Castiel’s between both of his own.

“Thank you,” Cas managed, laughing abruptly as he lifted his free hand to wipe at his eyes, shaking his head, “I thought you didn’t like chick flick moments?”

“I’ll make an exception just this once. Don’t tell Sam,” Dean teased, giving the other man a playful wink.

The second laugh was much fuller and Dean enjoyed hearing it immensely. It did them both a world of good to see that Castiel was healing despite everything that had happened and despite everything that they knew was still to come.

Cas rose from the table, reluctantly extracting his hand from Dean’s, though he was still smiling as he made his way to a rarely used cabinet.

“Well, I guess I won’t have to bribe you to train me to be a hunter, but I shouldn’t let this go to waste,” he said as he opened the cabinet and reached inside. His hands emerged from it, holding a pink baker’s box that he brought over to the table after closing the cabinet with his bare foot.

Dean blinked, green eyed gaze darting to that box, stamped with the name of his favorite bakery in town. He shook his head quickly, hope rising in his chest, “I changed my mind, I’m not training you til you give me what’s in that box.”

“Dean, I was going to give this to you whether you said yes or no,” Cas said, chuckling at Dean’s response as he set the box down on the table in front of Dean.

The hunter was quick to lift the lid and peer inside, a groan that could only be described as orgasmic escaping. And he hadn’t even had a bite yet.

Inside was the best apple pie Dean had ever tasted aside from his mother’s and his hands latched onto the box greedily when Cas made to take it again.

“Dean, I’m just going to put it in the oven to warm it up. It’ll go better with the ice cream if I do that,” Cas said in an attempt to placate and getting Dean to reluctantly release the box.

“You burn it I take back every nice thing I ever said about you,” he threatened, antsy in his seat as he watched Cas remove the pie and place it into a tin, then into the oven.

“When have you ever said anything nice about me?” The tease made Dean wince slightly, eyes drifting from the oven to Castiel.

“Okay. You have nice eyes,” he blurted out, even though he knew ‘nice’ didn’t even begin to describe them.

Castiel chuckled, moving toward the freezer to retrieve the carton of vanilla ice cream he’d purchased when he’d gotten the pie for Dean that morning.

“I suppose that counts as something nice. Thank you.” Next, he pulled out two small plates, some silverware and an ice cream scoop, bringing these over to the table with the ice cream.

“Welcome,” Dean muttered, polishing off the last of the beer he’d forgotten during the course of their conversation.

For Dean, it seemed like an eternity until the pie was finally warm enough by Castiel’s standards. He’d squirmed and whined, asking over and over if it was ready yet much to the former angel’s mutual amusement and annoyance.

But at last, Heaven on a plate was set in front of Dean with a generous scoop of ice cream that was steadily becoming all melty. Just the way Dean liked it.

His glee was almost childlike as he took that first bite, another obscene sound escaping the hunter as the sweet concoction landed on his tongue.

Castiel shook his head ruefully as he, too, sat down to his own slice, pleased at Dean’s reaction to his little gift.

Dean wasn’t one for talking when there was pie involved, preferring instead to stuff his face. Castiel was fine with that, the silence affording him the opportunity simply to watch and bask in Dean’s obvious enjoyment along with the knowledge that he was going to have a purpose again.

Finally, when there was nothing but crumbs left in the pie tin and the rest of the ice cream had been returned to the freezer, Dean leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh, patting his stomach while Castiel cleared away their dishes.

“That really hit the spot, Cas,” Dean said happily then licked his lips for any remaining trace of pie on them.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Castiel smiled as he rinsed off the plates, forks, and the ice cream scoop before setting them into the drainer.

“We’ll get started on your training first thing in the morning after breakfast, okay?”

Castiel turned, that smile lingering as he looked at Dean again, nodding.

“I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


	2. Following Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's training begins and the former angel finds himself learning more than he ever imagined he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned into a monster as far as length goes. But I'm pleased with how it turned out. Thanks for all your feedback so far and I look forward to what you guys have to say about it. Please enjoy and thank you for sticking with it! <3

So would begin the next few months of Castiel’s human life. Whether he would come to regret his choice had yet to be seen.

**July**

Dean hadn’t been kidding when he said first thing in the morning they would begin.

Castiel had woken the next morning to a bright-eyed Dean Winchester, as odd an occurrence as that was.

Dean handed Castiel a black handgun the first morning of his training, the ammunition clip in his free hand to show the gun was not loaded.

“I won’t go into size and caliber on your first day. That’ll just get too confusing to start out. But the first thing you need to know is this: this weapon is an extension of yourself. It’s part of your hand, your arm, and your first line of defense. I know you’ve been a soldier for longer than I can even understand, but for this we start with the basics.

“Part of treating this weapon as if it’s a part of you is to care for it as if it were part of you. You need to know each piece, every single part and how to keep all of those parts in working order. I won’t be teaching you how to shoot until you’ve learned proper maintenance.”

Castiel nodded, turning his hand to examine the weapon properly. He’d fired a shotgun once but that was about as far as his experience with pistols of any sort went.

“Okay. First and most important part of this gun is right here,” Dean said, pointing to the small switch on the butt, “This is the safety. Right now it’s in the on position. Just flip it over to off and the gun will be ready to fire. Only have the safety in the off position when you intend to kill something. It’ll only take half a second for you to flip the safety so make sure it’s on at all times unless you’re trying to take something down. Which leads to the most important rule: Never point a gun at anything that you aren’t willing to destroy.”

Dean watched closely as Castiel tested it, flipping the switch back and forth experimentally.

“Good. Now, we learn how to take it apart.” The hunter shifted, taking a seat beside Castiel at the table in the bunker’s kitchen, gesturing to the supplies he’d already laid out on the surface.

“Once you take it apart, then you’re going to clean it and put it back together again. These steps are all pretty easy really. It’s mainly a matter of repetition until you have the whole process memorized.”

Then, with the speed of years worth of practice, Dean had the gun completely dismantled in seconds with all the parts laid out on a soft cloth in front of Castiel.

Castiel gave the hunter a smile, impressed, but Dean reached for all the parts of the gun and immediately put it back together again.

“By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to do that just as fast as I do,” he said, putting the gun down in front of Castiel once more.

“I look forward to it,” Cas replied, running his fingers over the cool metal.

Part of Dean didn’t, but he refrained from saying so. Part of him was worried about all of this, about allowing Castiel to become a hunter. Sure, he was millions of years old, but he wasn’t an angel anymore. Death could come for him a lot easier now and the thought terrified Dean. He’d lost too many already. He didn’t want to add Castiel to that list.

He knew it was right to teach Castiel new ways to defend himself, though, so the other part of him had no problem teaching him how to handle a weapon like this. If it could help keep Castiel alive then that was worth it.

Reaching for the gun once more, Dean went through the process of dismantling the gun again, although much slower this time for Castiel’s benefit.

Once it was taken apart, he began the process of assembling it again, making sure Castiel was watching each movement to help memorize the process.

Finally, he offered the gun back to Cas and leaned back into his chair to watch, motioning with his hand for Castiel to make his first attempt.

It was slow going as Cas familiarized himself with each component, listening to Dean’s explanation of what they did, learning how to clean them properly as well as going through the motions of assembling and disassembling until finally just as dusk was approaching, Dean said that was enough for one day.

By that point, Castiel was fairly certain he’d gotten the hang of things. Though he couldn’t move as fast as Dean could yet by any means, the hunter still praised his efforts with each attempt. It pleased him to know that he was doing a good job in his training so far and he looked forward to the next step.

**August**

Castiel could take a gun apart and put it back together again like a pro. He also cleaned them well and had moved on to learning how to maintain other types of guns as well like shotguns and rifles. It was methodical and sometimes tedious once the steps were all mastered, but he appreciated the simplicity of it. Take care of your weapon and it will take care of you.

Once he had learned how to care for the handgun, Dean brought him to the shooting range in the bunker to work on his stance and practice firing at last.

Castiel was secretly excited for this part. It showed real progress for him. That Dean was willing to trust him with this weapon, to teach him how to use it. There was one aspect of these target practices, however, that he hadn’t anticipated.

Standing across the room from a paper target, his gun in hand, Castiel was not prepared for Dean to be the one to invade his personal space for once. 

The hunter’s hands were gentle yet firm as they guided his arms, his legs, even his hips to help correct his firing stance, murmuring tips as he went.

“Keep your legs slightly apart, knees loose. Curl your dominant hand around the butt of the gun but use the other to cradle the bottom of it. Keep your arms slightly bent. If you keep them locked straight, they’ll get tired faster which isn’t good if you have to keep your gun on something or someone for a long period of time,” he said quietly, voice close by Castiel’s ear as the experienced hunter perfected his stance and grip.

“You okay?” Dean paused in his instructions when he felt Castiel shiver against him.

“Yes. Apologies. It’s a little chilly in here,” he answered quickly, keeping his eyes trained on the target. He hoped the lie could be forgiven, but the truth was, Dean’s presence so close to him was making his heart pound and his palms a little sweaty. He resisted the urge to rub them on the legs of his jeans.

“Oh. Yeah, guess it is a bit. We can get out of here after you fire off a few rounds. Get a feel for the weapon and the recoil,” Dean said, stepping back much to Castiel’s disappointment.

“Very well. Is my stance satisfactory?” He’d been careful to hold himself the way Dean had shown him, the gun held steadily in his hand.

“Yep. Looks great. The clip’s already in so whenever you’re ready to try go ahead and turn off the safety then shoot the target a few times. I want to get an idea of what your aim’s like so I can figure out how far we have to go with this part of the training.” Dean stepped back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest to wait and watch.

Castiel inclined his head, using his left hand to turn off the gun’s safety then cupped the butt of it again. He took in a slow breath and released it quietly as he stared at the target. Cocking the gun, he took in another breath, held it, then pulled the trigger at last.

The sound was loud, shattering the quiet of the shooting range with a loud bang. It startled him slightly, but the gun’s recoil wasn’t bad at least. His gaze scanned the target, searching for the hole the bullet would have made.

Pride filled him when he found it, right in the target’s abdomen. Perhaps not a fatal wound, but he’d hit the target! He looked back to see Dean looking at him with...was that pride as well? The small smile on his lips certainly looked that way to Castiel, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

“Good job, Cas. Damn good for your first shot. Go ahead and empty the clip for me, then we’ll see how you do. Aim for the chest,” Dean said, nodding toward the target once more.

Castiel nodded, returning his attention to the target. He made sure his stance was correct once again and adjusted his grip to raise the gun slightly toward the target’s chest.

Breathe in, fire, breathe out. He repeated this process until the clip was emptied as Dean had said. Cas couldn’t help the wide grin on his features as he looked at the target. All of his shots had been on the target, several of them in the chest just like Dean wanted though some had gone through the abdomen again or the shoulders.

“Is that good?” he asked curiously, head tilting as he looked at Dean for approval.

“Hell yeah. Real good, Cas. Real good.” Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder, that small and perhaps proud smile lingering on his lips.

“I’m pleased. I’d like to try again,” Cas said, reaching for another clip on the small table nearby after ejecting the empty one.

“Have at it. One more round then we can go grab some lunch. Clean up the gun after though, yeah?” 

“Of course.” Cas smiled at Dean as the hunter went back to his spot to watch. Soon after, the shooting range was once again filled with the sound of gunfire.

**September**

“Again!” Dean barked, rising from his crouch on the grass outside the bunker, the setting sun making his skin and hair glow.

Castiel rose from the ground, wiping at the bit of blood leaking from the cut on his lip. He adopted his battle stance once more and attacked.

Both men were shirtless in the early fall afternoon, barefoot and wearing jeans as well as a light sheen of sweat as Dean worked with Castiel on his hand-to-hand combat skills. Guns had been mastered, his aim perfected until fatal shots on the targets were always the end result of Cas’ sessions at the shooting range.

He’d been a soldier of the Lord, fought against creatures of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. But right now, Dean Winchester was kicking his ass. Without angelic abilities, everything hurt a hell of a lot more and he wasn’t as fast as he once was. It was far too easy for Dean to take him down. Embarrassingly so.

“Oof!” Castiel’s breath left him in a rush of wind as Dean ducked a punch, crouching down to sweep his leg out sharply, kicking the former angel’s legs out from under him and making him land on his back with a hard thud that knocked the wind out of him.

He gasped for air, shifting painfully onto his side as he mentally cursed Dean, Metatron, God, anyone that had ever pissed him off at some point that he could think of with a moment’s notice. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his muscles were screaming at him. Castiel wanted nothing more at this point than to down a bottle of aspirin like the time he’d had a hangover then curl into bed and try not to die from the pain.

That would have to wait, however, because Dean was standing there, holding out his hand to pull Cas to his feet.

“C’mon, Cas. Couple more rounds then we’ll call it for today,” Dean said, reaching down to take Cas’ hand and try to pull him up when it didn’t look like Cas was going to accept the help.

Despite his body’s vehement protests, Castiel moved quickly, his hand curling around Dean’s like a vice and jerking forward suddenly. The movement caught Dean off guard and he found himself faceplanted in the grass with a satisfied former angel sitting on his ass.

“I win,” Cas said simply, the fact that the words were said with a bit of a painful wheeze ignored. He would savor his victory. Dean could eat dirt and like it.

Dean spit out a few stray blades of grass, trying to crane his neck around so he could see Cas to give him an indignant look but it was difficult. 

“Yeah, okay, Bruce Lee. You mind getting off me now?” he asked flippantly, squirming beneath the other man and trying to ignore the fact that Castiel was on top of him.

“I don’t understand that reference. And, no, I don’t think I will.” He crossed his arms over his aching chest, looking perfectly content to just sit there on top of the Winchester.

“Cas! Get off!” Dean tried to buck up and dislodge the smaller man, earning a yelp and a glare as Castiel clung to his perch, “I thought you said you weren’t here to perch on my shoulder!”

“I’m not! I am currently ‘perching’,” he said with air quotes and everything, “on your ass. And after how many times you’ve knocked me on my own today, I feel that I’m entitled to do so.”

Dean growled and bucked once more, ignoring the glaring former angel. This time he put more force behind it, more strength, and Cas would’ve fallen flat across Dean’s back had he not adjusted his position accordingly.

This is how Dean Winchester ended up laying on his stomach on the grass, shirtless, with a former angel of the Lord, equally sans shirt, damn near draped over his back, straddling the hunter’s hips with his groin pressed to his ass and his hands on either side of Dean’s head to brace himself.

This is also how Sam Winchester found them when he exited the bunker to check on their progress two seconds later, stopping short with his eyes wide in shock.

“Whoa! I didn’t think it was that kinda training,” he quipped, earning a groan from his brother that was anything but pleasant.

“Fuck off, Sam. But before you do, get him off!” Dean ordered, glaring at his younger brother.

Castiel hadn’t moved an inch, instead looking between the two brothers as they spoke though a light blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“Actually, I think getting him off is your job.” Sam smiled the sweetest smile he possibly could, then turned around and headed back into the bunker, leaving two flustered, sputtering men outside in the sunset.

“BITCH!” Dean shouted after his brother as loud as he could from his position on the grass.

The hunter then looked over his shoulder as best he could to glare at Castiel who still hadn’t moved from his precarious position.

“Assbutt.”

**October**

Fall was in full swing and the training progressed steadily. They still worked on hand-to-hand combat scenarios, but Dean made sure they never found themselves in another situation like the month before. 

Castiel was too distracting. Dean found himself watching the former angel’s every move. He was building up good, healthy muscle from exercise as well as sparring, filling out Dean’s old shirts and the new ones they’d bought him very nicely. 

So he stared more than he’d like to admit, watching that lithe body as he went through stretches and sit ups, even lifting weights with Sam on some days. Castiel was always eager to learn, to experience new aspects of humanity with pure, unbridled curiosity. He worked hard every day, giving each lesson his all until he mastered the things Dean sought to teach him.

He’d make a damn fine hunter and Dean knew it. He was already almost ready for his first real hunt as a human being. It was whether or not Dean himself was ready to let Castiel hunt that was the main concern at this point. He still had his reservations. Still worried that Castiel wouldn’t be able to defend himself even though at this point Dean knew he was just being stupid.

But that didn’t stop Dean from continuing Cas’ training. Or worrying. Though those concerns were kept locked tightly away in the back of his mind until he was alone in his bed each night. Even the memory foam couldn’t stop him from staring up at the ceiling in the dark, scenarios flooding his mind of Castiel on hunts that he didn’t survive.

It was the stuff of nightmares, but they only haunted him at night when he allowed it. During the day he was all playful smiles and training techniques. Focused on the task at hand which was teaching Cas new methods of how to stay alive when facing the things that went bump in the night.

To further the close quarters combat training, Dean brought out the blades. He knew Cas wouldn’t be a slouch with a knife or short sword, but he still needed to learn to fight like a human, not an angel.

Castiel’s blade of choice was still an angel blade, but Dean gave him other weapons to practice with from daggers to machetes. He wanted to make certain he had as much experience with various sorts of blades as he did with guns, learning how to handle different sizes with deadly precision.

So each day, Dean and Castiel ventured outside the bunker into the cool autumn air, Dean with a dufflebag slung over his shoulder filled with the weapons Cas would train with. Each day, they would come to the spot in the grassy field where they practiced and Dean would open the bag, picking a random weapon from within and offering it to Cas.

Cas would take the weapon and they would begin. Dean had ended up with more than a few grazes, but Cas never struck with the intent to seriously harm. When it was Dean, he pulled his punches. When it was a training dummy or target, Cas was lethal.

Today, Dean sat on the grass, watching the other man’s graceful movements as he attacked the target while nursing a cut on his right forearm. It wasn’t bad but would likely leave a small scar. Dean would wear it with pride. He didn’t have the handprint anymore. The scar would be something at least. He cursed himself for being a sap each time he thought of it.

Dean’s musings were paused when the blade of Castiel’s machete sliced clear through the target’s head and sent it flying to tumble across the grass. He grinned.

The man himself was sweating from his workout, panting slightly with exertion. As usual, he’d opted to forego the shirt, wearing only a loose set of sweatpants that he found easy to maneuver in. Lowering his blade and shifting out of his offensive stance, he looked at Dean only to find the hunter grinning at him.

“Great job, Cas,” Dean said, climbing to his feet. The praise always made Castiel feel warm inside, proud of himself for not only pleasing Dean but improving in his training each day.

“Thank you. This machete is much easier to handle than yours. I like it.” He hefted the blade slightly in example and Dean nodded.

“Keep it then, if you think it works better for you. I’d say you’ve gotten the hang of that one. We’ll work with the dagger more tomorrow. Machete you still have a bit of room to work with, but daggers make you get really up close and personal to your opponent. Can’t just slice and dice, I know, but I’ve lost count of how many times a fight’s come down to me using a dagger from my boot or something.”

“Of course. I’d like to practice more with the angel blade tomorrow as well,” Cas said, picking up a towel from beside the dufflebag and wiping at his face with it.

“Sure, man, sounds good to me. We’ll start off with the dagger then wind things up nice and easy with the angel blade, what do you say?” Dean asked, tossing Cas a bottle of water.

Castiel caught the bottle easily, nodding, then twisting off the cap and tilting his head back to take a long drink from it, throat working as he swallowed.

And Dean was staring again. He wanted so badly to trace the path of that throat with his mouth, taste the sweat lingering there on Castiel’s skin. But that was a thought for nighttime as well when he was once again alone in his bed.

Cas polished off the water then shifted to start putting the weapons back into the duffle since the sun was beginning to set. He was speaking as he did it, Dean realized with a start, the hunter having missed everything Castiel said in his distraction.

“Sorry, what was that, Cas?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck while looking pointedly away from the dark-haired man’s ass as he bent over to pick up the duffle once it was packed.

“I asked if you wanted burgers for dinner tonight. I feel like trying my hand at cooking again and you said you liked the last batch I made a few weeks ago,” he said, slinging the straps over his shoulder, head tilted as he turned to look at Dean.

“Oh, yeah, man, those were awesome. Sure thing. I’m sure Sam and Kevin’ll be cool with it too.” Smooth. Natural. Nothing to be embarrassed about here. Nothing at all.

Castiel smiled warmly at Dean, making the hunter bite back a sigh. He looked happy. Even after all the shit he’d been through over the last few years, especially the last year, Castiel actually looked happy. Dean found himself selfishly hoping it was because of him.

“All right, I remember how you like yours. I’ll whip some up after I shower.” His gaze and smile lingered on Dean for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and made his way toward the bunker’s entrance to see about that shower.

Left alone with the fading light of day and the light breeze drifting over the grass, Dean sighed to himself, head tilting back to look up at the sky as the sun was sinking in the horizon.

Cas had stayed, but Dean was beginning to realize that his heart was long gone and no longer his.

**November**

With winter well on its way at this point, outside training sessions weren’t as frequent. Cas had taken to running in the mornings, however, enjoying the brisk cold air as he went about his daily routine. Run one mile, then run back for two miles total. It certainly helped with his muscle definition as Dean had been quick to notice.

Gone was the slender holy tax accountant look. In its place was a trim, fit body with a healthy tone. Castiel had been sparring with Sam or Dean every day, sometimes both at once to add a little variety to the fight. 

The first time he’d knocked Sam Winchester on his ass, Sam had lain there surprised for several long seconds before laughing. He’d risen to his feet and given Cas a heartfelt “Good job” as well as a nod before they got right back to sparring.

Sometimes they fought with weapons, sometimes without. It was always random because nothing about hunting was ever predictable. Especially when the Winchester boys were involved. Shaking things up in Castiel’s training was commonplace. He needed to be prepared for anything and the boys wanted to do their best to make sure he was ready for whatever came his way as best they could. They were in this together, after all. They were a family. Having each other’s backs went without question. 

So one cold November morning, as Castiel was performing his morning workout routine in his room, Dean walked down the hallway with a small stack of papers in his hand and Sam at his back. Both boys stopped at Cas’ doorway and Sam knocked quietly.

Cas answered the door, clad in a loose tank top and sweats with a light sheen of perspiration on his skin. He smiled at the Winchesters when he saw them standing there.

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam greeted, returning that smile, “Sorry to interrupt your workout, but Dean and I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes if that’s okay?”

“Of course. Please, come in,” Cas agreed, stepping back so they could enter the room. Dean saw the pair of hand weights Sam had given Cas on the floor near his bed, but directed his attention to the former angel and cleared his throat to speak.

“So, Sam and me have been thinking. We’re kinda overdue on this, but he and I pulled some strings and got you a sorta early Christmas gift I guess,” he said, offering the papers in his hand to Castiel who took them carefully to look over.

“I don’t understand.” Castiel’s brow furrowed slightly as he read, reading what looked to be official looking papers of some sort. He lifted that confused gaze to the boys, brow arched.

“They’re official documentation for you. Birth certificate, driver’s license, Social Security card, the works,” Sam explained with a smile on his face as Castiel looked over the papers once more.

“It’s official, Cas. You’re a Winchester now.” And Castiel saw that Dean was correct. There on every document was ‘Castiel Winchester’ as his name. Born in Pontiac, Illinois thirty-four years ago and a resident of the State of Kansas with all the paperwork to prove it.

Castiel wanted to speak, to offer his profound gratitude for this amazing gift, but he couldn’t get any words past the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. Family. They were his family. He was one of them. He belonged again, at last. 

Sam stepped forward, resting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, the taller man’s smile lingering, “For the record, you’ve always been one of us even when things were at their worst.”

Dean could see the sheen of tears in Cas’ eyes when he lifted his head to look at Sam then at Dean himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words so sincere they made Dean’s heart ache in his chest. The pulled strings and called in favors to give Castiel an identity, an official place in the Winchester family, had all been more than worth it just from that look and those words, Dean knew.

“Anytime, Cas,” Sam said, patting his shoulder for a moment then changing his mind at the last minute. He leaned in and gave the smaller man a hug.

Castiel’s face showed his surprise as this, but he quickly overcame it. He raised his arms, right hand still holding the precious gift the brothers had given him, wrapping them around Sam to return the embrace. The pair brought a small smile to Dean’s face.

Sam stepped back, offering a nod, “I’ll let you get back to your workout. I’m up for more sparring later this afternoon if you are.”

“I’d like that,” Cas said, voice a little thick while Sam made his way to the door. The taller Winchester winked at Dean as he passed, then exited the room. The action caused Dean to blink and peer after his brother’s retreating back. The hell was that about?

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice brought Dean’s attention back to him, Sam forgotten for the time being.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you as well. Truly. This means more than I can express.” Cas gave him that bright, warm smile that seemed to be reserved only for him. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking on Dean’s part.

The elder Winchester stepped forward much like Sam had moments ago, resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder. Green eyes lingered on blue as he spoke, unsure of where the words came from but not meaning them any less.

“You’re welcome, Cas. I know we’ve had our issues and both had our heads up our asses,” he paused at Castiel’s rueful chuckle, then continued, “but we’re family. We need you. I need you...”

The last part had been the most surprising for Dean, to hear himself uttering the same words he’d said in that crypt all those months ago, when he’d looked up at Cas and pleaded for the angel to hear him. 

The words struck a chord in Castiel as well and Dean soon found his arms filled with the welcome warmth of the other man against him. Cas’ arms wound tightly around Dean’s shoulders, holding him close.

“I need you, too,” he whispered, voice once again thick with all the emotions Cas knew he’d never be able to accurately express. So he did the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he knew would show Dean exactly how he felt about the gift the boys had given him as well as the man in his arms.

Castiel leaned back from their embrace slightly, Dean’s arms wound around the former angel’s waist, and kissed him.

Dean didn’t respond at first and Castiel was beginning to feel a twinge of fear that he’d crossed a line and made Dean angry. Had made him want to take back this amazing gift he’d been given, but once the hunter overcame the shock of feeling Cas’ lips against his, he gave as good as he got.

Cas tasted sweet, like the juice he’d come to favor that was a mixture of different kinds of berries. His lips were soft, lightly chapped, his touch achingly gently as he kissed the hunter’s lips. His hands had callouses from months spent familiarizing himself with different kinds of weaponry, but they cradled Dean’s face between them as if he were a priceless work of art.

To Castiel, Dean always had been. In his eyes, Dean was his Father’s greatest creation with the most beautiful, vibrant soul he’d ever seen. Dean was a man Castiel couldn’t help loving or wanting to protect at all costs. He also couldn’t help wanting to be closer, to keep this man, his hunter, in his arms for the rest of his days.

Pulling back slightly to look into Dean’s eyes, Castiel was immensely pleased to see that he was smiling. Words didn’t seem necessary, however, as Dean curled a hand at the nape of Castiel’s neck, gently pulling him back in so their lips could meet again. 

Castiel barely made it to his sparring session with Sam on time that afternoon and his morning workout had been completely forgotten. When one had Dean Winchester in their arms, getting to spend almost an entire day holding and kissing him, it was easy to let the rest of the world pass by. 

Though all his hard work would soon be put to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


	3. Put To The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find a hunt in Arkansas that seems to be demonic activity. When they arrive, Castiel finds himself facing his own mortality with a challenge he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go after this then the story will officially be complete. Enjoy!

**December**

Christmas morning and Castiel was in the middle of a set with his weights. As far as the former angel knew, the boys hadn’t crawled out of bed yet so he had time to go through his routine still. He’d already worked up a good sweat, clad only in his sweatpants as he raised the weights while keeping a mental count.

He glanced toward the door, however, when he heard it open quietly, a smile curling his lips when he saw Dean entering, though he didn’t pause in his lifting.

“Good morning, Dean,” he greeted, smile lingering as the motions of his arms made his muscles shift with each lift.

“Mornin’, Cas. Merry Christmas,” the hunter said, stepping over to sit on his partner’s bed to watch him finish up. The hunter’s gaze lingered on Castiel’s back, between his shoulderblades where they had gotten his protection symbol tattooed at the end of November. Just like Dean’s own, but Castiel had requested the addition of two black wings attached to the side of the symbol.

“Thank you. You as well.” Finally, he finished the set, putting the weights back under the bed where they usually went before rubbing at his skin briskly with a towel. Once he was finished, he sat the towel down on his dresser and settled next to Dean on the bed.

They still had their own rooms. Castiel had wanted Dean for years, but the fact remained that he was still completely new to so many things. So, when they’d taken their friendship and made it into something more, Cas had expressed his desire to take things slowly, to work up to wherever it was they were going with this.

Dean, to the shock of Sam, had agreed, stating he hadn’t had much experience with relationships either and adding to the fact that Castiel was still a virgin, it wasn’t difficult for either of them to move at a more leisurely pace with the other. 

Okay, sometimes it was, like now, when Cas was shirtless and looking fantastic, but that’s what Dean had two hands and Busty Asian Beauties for as he always told himself. 

Castiel’s smile lingered as his hand rose to Dean’s cheek, the former angel leaning in to press their lips together sweetly in a good morning kiss.

This was still so new for both of them, yet so wonderful at the same time. Where they were careful about how far they went, kisses and affectionate touches were never held back, never withheld because the hesitancy just wasn’t there. Despite how new it was, kissing each other, holding hands and the like had become as natural to Dean and Castiel as breathing. Dean knew he’d never tire of it.

It was after the kiss had gone on for several seconds that Dean finally leaned back, setting a wrapped box on Castiel’s lap with a grin.

“What is this?” Cas asked, surprised at the box’s sudden appearance.

“It’s a grenade. No, seriously, dude, it’s Christmas. I got you a present. Open it!” the hunter urged, poking Castiel’s side to encourage him.

“Oh. Well, if we’re exchanging gifts now then...” Rather than doing as Dean said, Castiel put his present down on the bed and went into his closet, pulling out a slender, rectangular box wrapped in newspaper that he offered to Dean when he returned to the bed.

“Cas, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Dean protested as he held the box in his lap, shaking his head.

“I could say the same of you. Which would lead us to sitting here protesting our gifts to each other when we could just open them and enjoy it.” Cas arched a brow at Dean, waiting for his partner to make his choice.

Dean’s response was to silently start opening his gift.

Castiel was content to wait to open his. He didn’t want to miss a second of Dean’s reaction once the hunter saw what his gift was.

“HOLY SHIT!!” 

Yep, Cas grinned to himself, worth it. Dean was wide-eyed, holding the record album in his hands like someone had just handed him baby Jesus fresh from the manger.

“Led Zeppelin IV AUTOGRAPHED?!” Dean handled it carefully, turning the album left and right, up and over, noting the cover was in pristine condition and signed by every member of the band.

“I’m told it’s authentic. Sam helped me locate one that was satisfactory,” Castiel explained, his grin seeming to be permanent on his face as he watched Dean.

“Jesus, this must’ve cost a small fucking fortune,” Dean muttered, gaze rapt on the cover as he looked over the signatures.

“Well. What’s the point of having a credit card you don’t have to make payments on if you don’t use it?” Cas quipped, chuckling.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Dean set his precious record down on the bedside table, then promptly pounced his lover from across the bed, making Cas land flat on his back with Dean’s lips planted firmly on the former angel’s.

Cas’ laugh was muffled against Dean’s lips, but his arms were strong when they encircled the hunter’s waist while returning the enthusiastic kiss.

Dean seemed perfectly content to keep kissing the other man, but then he remembered that Castiel had yet to open his present. So, reluctantly, Dean pulled away to sit on the bed properly once more, then put Cas’ gift on his lap to remind him to open it.

Sitting up after Dean moved away, Cas chuckled quietly as he carefully went about opening his gift. He could see Dean damn near squirming in nervous anticipation which only made the former angel all the more curious as to what his gift actually was.

Once he removed the paper, he found a medium sized wooden case with a hinged lid. Brow furrowed as he examined it curiously, Castiel carefully opened the lid, gasping at what was inside.

Nestled inside of the box was a handgun that was the exact same as the one Dean preferred to use, right down to the mother-of-pearl accents and the sight of it left Castiel floored.

He lifted the weapon out of the box, blinking at the etchings in the metal of the gun on both sides that stood out against the silver. Dark wings, one on each side of the gun to mirror each other along the barrel. Castiel had to bite down hard on his bottom lip for a few moments before he could speak.

“I, I don’t know what to say,” he murmured thickly, carefully turning the weapon to examine it. 

Dean shook his head, sliding closer to Castiel to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders. “You don’t have to say anything, Cas. Just wanted to get you something I thought you could use. I know how much you liked using my gun when I let you practice with it so I figured you should have your own. Hope you don’t mind the little bit of extra detailing I had added onto it, though.”

“Not at all. It’s a wonderful gift, thank you.” Castiel shook his head quickly, putting the gun back into the box and setting it aside so he could wrap Dean in his arms once more.

Neither man could ever imagine just how important that weapon would come to be.

**January**

Castiel insisted on his training every day at this point despite Dean and Sam’s reassurances that they truly believed he was ready for hunting. He’d worked tirelessly since the previous summer and it had paid off. No longer the nerdy tax accountant that he appeared to be, instead Castiel could appear intimidating even without his angelic abilities. He was faster than Dean now at taking a gun apart then putting it back together again and gave as good as he got during their sparring sessions. 

His first true test as a hunter came a week before Dean’s birthday.

The ground was frozen, covered in dead grass and a dusting of snow when Sam came to him outside as he worked with one of the makeshift training dummies, blade glinting in the weak sunlight as he went through the motions, his breath fogging with every exhale.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam called, stopping a few feet away.

“Good morning, Sam,” the former angel replied, though his movements never ceased, bringing the blade around in a sweeping arch that caught the dummy in the side.

“Listen, I’ve been looking through the papers and online articles and I think I found us a hunt a few states over. Looks like demonic activity. Think you’d be up for it?” Sam watched patiently, gaze rapt on Castiel’s face to see if there was any hesitance.

There was none to be found. Castiel offered a brief nod as he brought the blade down again on the dummy’s right shoulder with a loud thwaking sound. “I’m ready. When do we leave?”

“Great. Uh, I think Dean said in the morning? Got time to pack and get ready still.”

“Shotgun,” was Castiel’s only response to that, though a smirk curled his lips as he brought the blade down again on the poor defenseless target.

Sam blinked for a moment then sighed. “Assbutt,” he muttered, the term having stuck as a form of endearment to the former angel.

“Bitch,” Cas called back immediately as Sam walked away. Dean had fallen out of his chair laughing the first time Castiel had used his nickname for Sam and the resulting look of total shock on the younger Winchester’s face. He’d loved it so much he gave Castiel permission to use it whenever he felt like it.

Sam flipped him off before entering the bunker, leaving Castiel to finish his exercises in the frigid air.

**Four Days Later**

The trip hadn’t taken all that long. The Winchesters found themselves in the small suburban town of Caines, Arkansas and the respite from the snow was a welcome one. Upon their arrival, as usual they’d set up base in a local motel before beginning their investigation.

The local news had reported five murders within the last month, each case appearing to be ritualistic in nature with the victims found in out of the way locations with strange symbols carved into their flesh. No photos of the symbols had been released so until the Winchesters could get a look at the bodies, they were flying blind.

Sam was at the morgue while Dean and Castiel drove through town to locate the people who had stumbled across the victims where their bodies had been left, hoping to gain some insight through interviewing them.

From what Dean and Castiel could gather, none of the victims had died where they were found, meaning they still had to find the actual location the murders took place in hopes of learning more about what the group of hunters were dealing with.

They’d also taken the time to visit each crime scene, hoping to find any clues from where the bodies had been found. From what they had learned so far of each victim, they had absolutely nothing in common. None were close in age, frequented the same places or were even of the same ethnicity. It was frustrating to say the least, but Dean had a feeling there was more to this than met the eye.

His suspicions were confirmed when Sam returned from the morgue, dressed in his Fed suit with a file folder in hand.

Dean and Cas both looked up from where they’d been going over the witness accounts when Sam approached their table and took one of the empty seats for himself.

“The only thing these people had in common was the way they died. Each one bled to death and each had symbols carved into their torsos. But the symbols aren’t making any sense to me. Cas, I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on it,” Sam explained as he opened the folder and began pulling out pictures of each of the victims, detailing the mutilation of their flesh.

Castiel silently examined each picture, but with each one he looked at, his features appeared puzzled then outright confused. “I don’t understand...”

“What?” Dean asked, leaning over to take a look at the photographs himself.

“This is...jibberish. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything at all. There are symbols in Enochian, Demonic symbols, an...an Egyptian hieroglyph? This makes no sense...” Cas pointed out each one he commented on, shaking his head.

“So, what? Someone’s carving these poor bastards up for a game?” Dean looked pissed at the prospect, green eyes scanning each symbol Castiel gestured to.

“I don’t know if it’s a game or if there’s something more to it, but the answer isn’t in the victims themselves, nor in these symbols I think,” Cas mused, glancing up between the two brothers.

“Well, there was a trace of sulfur where one of the victims was found so I’m not ruling out demons, but what the hell are they doing?” Sam chimed in, brow furrowed as he brought the pictures closer to look at once more.

“No clue, but this has to stop. There’s a new stiff at least once a week at this point and we’re getting to the point that we’re due for a new one if these assholes keep to pattern.” Dean stood up, wandering over to the mini fridge the room sported and pulled out three beers before returning to the table and offering one each to his brother and Castiel.

Sam and Castiel both accepted theirs with nods of thanks, taking off the tops and enjoying the first sip of the cold, bitter liquid. Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sure I’m not the only one thinking along these lines, but something just doesn’t feel right about this. Those symbols just don’t make any sense and combined aren’t apart of any ritual I’ve ever heard of. So what the hell are we dealing with here? If it’s demons, what are they doing?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs out along the side of the table. “To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if this is a setup or something. Like a trap for hunters maybe.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed at his brother’s speculation, not looking at all pleased at the prospect. “That’s pretty damn ballsy. Even for demons. You two know the drill. Don’t go anywhere unarmed or without your cell phones.”

Sam and Cas both shared a glance, rolling their eyes when Dean went into big brother mode. “We know, Dean. This isn’t our first rodeo,” Sam said, Castiel nodding his agreement.

“Oh bite me, bitch. Just be careful already.” Dean brought the bottle up and downed half of it to drown his irritation, succeeding only marginally.

**Three Days Later**

Castiel was trying very hard not to panic. Sam and Dean had made a quick run to the store for some supplies since they were running low. They’d left that morning, saying they wouldn’t be gone long and would return shortly. That had been five hours ago.

Each time he’d tried to call or text the boys, it had either gone straight to voicemail or received no response. Sam and Dean knew better than that. Castiel knew that if they could have answered, they would have. Which could only mean that something had gone wrong. 

Each time Castiel had envisioned his first hunt as a human being, it had been with the Winchesters there at his side. All the months of training, he’d known that his family would be there to back him up if he needed it, no questions asked.

But it wasn’t turning out that way. He was alone with no idea of where Sam and Dean were, what had happened to them. He didn’t want to admit to the fear that surged through him as he tossed his phone down on the bed with a quiet curse after Dean hadn’t answered his call.

He’d adjusted to being human, to the limitations that came with it, but never had he wished more for his angelic powers than he had been these last five hours. He was one man. What could one man do in this situation?

Castiel’s thoughts were pushed aside when his cell phone rang at last, Dean’s ringtone sounding through the quiet of the motel room. He rushed to grab it, lifting it to his ear.

“Dean? Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” Any relief he might’ve felt upon receiving the call vanished when he heard a man’s voice on the other end of the line who certainly wasn’t Dean Winchester.

“Aww. Poor little fallen angel. So worried about his boyfriend. It’s a shame, isn’t it, Castiel? That you worried more for the fate of two humans more than you did your own family?” He could hear voices in the background, but not make out what was being said.

“Who is this?” he demanded, hand clenched around the phone.

“Don’t you remember me, brother? Or has your mind been too filled with the Winchesters the last few years to recall your own kin?” The man’s voice was full of mockery, but it finally registered with Castiel after a few moments of trying to calm his racing mind enough to think.

“Kariel. What have you done with Sam and Dean?” As he spoke, Castiel quietly moved about the room, gathering anything and everything he thought that he might need. Knives he hid on his person, up his sleeves, tucked into his boots.

“I’m touched you remembered, Castiel. We borrowed your pets for a bit. Hope you don’t mind. Don’t worry, they’re mostly in the same condition they were in when you last saw them.” The voices in the background were getting closer, then Kariel’s voice continued, “Say hello to Castiel, boys. He’s anxious to hear from you.”

“Cas!” Dean’s voice came over the line and Castiel’s heart clenched. “Cas, stay away damnit! Don’t come for us!”

Dean was cut off, his voice becoming muffled, but before Castiel could speak, Kariel’s voice came again, the smirk on his lips evident over the phone. “Now you, Sam. Let Castiel know you’re here too.”

Sam’s voice was calm, a balm to the rage and fear that Castiel was struggling with. “Cas, we’re all right. We’re six sheets to the wind, but we’re all right.”

The phrase gave Castiel a bit of clarity. The message hidden in the words was enough to give him an idea of the situation. Six sheets to the wind. Six opponents to face. One against six but if he could somehow get Dean and Sam out, that would help even the odds a bit. He didn’t like going into a situation blind and Sam knew it. At least he knew how many he would be up against.

“Now, Castiel, you and I are going to have a little talk. Face to face. No weapons. No police. Don’t even try to call any of your fellow hunter friends. I don’t think I need to tell you what would happen to the Winchesters if you disobeyed any of my rules, do I?” Kariel stated, pausing for Castiel’s response.

“Why are you doing this, Kariel? The Winchesters have done nothing to you.” Castiel lifted his gun, the one Dean had given him for Christmas and that he’d never gone without ever since. Silently, he checked the clip, making sure it was fully loaded then grabbing a couple of extra clips as well.

“Because you cost us our home. You destroyed our family. And if you think you won’t have to answer for your transgressions, you’re wrong. Do as I say. Come to the abandoned factory on Lakeshore Road in one hour. Just you. No weapons. No tricks. You do that and you can see your precious Winchesters walk away alive. Do we have an understanding, Castiel?”

“Yes.” Castiel closed his eyes, sparing a short prayer to an absent father. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I look forward to it.” The line went dead after that and Castiel didn’t give himself time to worry or let his fear overcome him. He did what he’d been train to do. Not just for the last few months, but over the course of his existence. He had always been a soldier, after all. Now would be no different.

Except now, he had to prepare himself for something he didn’t want to face. Yet again, it came down to the Winchesters or his angelic family. But were the angels truly his family? It hadn’t seemed that way for a long time, but that didn’t mean he wanted to harm any of them. Though, once again, the choice seemed far too easy. He barely had to spend any time thinking about it. The Winchesters would always be his choice. They were his true family. God rest Bobby Singer’s soul, but he’d had it right all along. Family didn’t end with blood.

Checking his weapons one last time, Castiel readied himself for what was to come. One way or another, his boys were coming home safe and sound.

**Forty-five Minutes Later**

The factory was rather non-descript, practically hidden off the main road by a large section of trees that lined the old dirt path that lead up to the factory itself. It hadn’t been hard to use those trees as cover once he’d found the place so he could scope out the surrounding area.

Three of his former brethren stood just outside the entrance, each of them armed. Which likely left the remaining three, including Kariel, inside with Sam and Dean. Three against one. He’d have to be careful as well as quick. He’d have just enough time to deal with the three sentries before he would have to make his appearance inside the factory.

Castiel saw his chance when one of the sentries stepped away from the other two at the door. It appeared he was doing a circle of the perimeter just to make sure everything remained secure. Stupid. But at least something was working out in his favor so far.

Castiel ducked down and quickly made his way through the brush, being careful not to make a sound. Once he was sure the guard was far enough away from his companions and that no one would see anything, he darted out from the treeline and toward the wall of the factory. The man hadn’t seemed to notice he was there as he crept up behind him and Castiel quickly brought his gun up then down hard on the back of the man’s head. The guard went limp and Castiel hurried to catch him before he hit the ground, hiding him under some bushes against the side of the building. He pulled out a few zipties and used them to bind the sentry’s arms and legs. Now to deal with the other two.

Easier said than done. The element of surprise was hard to maintain against two opponents. Especially when there was no way to approach the pair of guards with any sort of cover given their placement at the front of the building. So Castiel decided his best course of action was to walk right up to the building. Putting his gun back in the holster, he stepped out into view.

He knew the second they saw him when they both tensed up and drew their weapons, one male around Castiel’s height, the other a female. The male had gone for a blade similar to an angel blade while the woman went for a gun holstered at her hip. The blade he could get around. The gun would be more complicated.

He made a show of holding up both his hands so the pair could see he was presumably unarmed then stepped toward them slowly. “I’ve done as Kariel asked. I’m unarmed,” he stated, making sure his tone of voice remained completely calm, his hands steady.

The woman glanced to her partner then nodded toward Castiel, making sure her gun was trained at chest level. “Search him, Ezekiel,” she said and waited while the male went to do just that.

It would announce his presence to those inside, but at this point it probably couldn’t be helped. When Ezekiel was in range, Castiel shifted quickly to place the other man between him and the woman’s gun, lunging for his knife. After what Dean called a sucker punch right to the guy’s throat, he managed to jerk the knife away and shove Ezekiel right for his partner, praying the man’s weight and momentum would be enough to knock her off her feet.

The gunshot rang loud in the clearing and Castiel knew he had only a few seconds before reinforcements arrived. Blood was spreading across Ezekiel’s chest as the woman squirmed underneath his weight, the gun having gone off when she landed on the ground with a full grown man’s weight atop her. Ezekiel wasn’t moving and her hands were stuck under dead weight.

Castiel hated what came next, but he had to be fast. He darted forward, knife in hand, seeing only the wide eyed look of his sister before he plunged the blade into her throat. There was a short gurgling sound then silence, her blood staining the grass beneath her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to both of them, truly regretful for their deaths.

He rose just as the door to the factory opened and two more of his brothers exited. Their gazes landed on the corpses of their fellows before moving to Castiel. Both of them had guns, both held with steady grips and trained directly on him. He sighed and stood, lifting his hands once more to show they were empty, though this time they were covered in drying blood.

“Castiel,” the smaller of the two men said, keeping his weapon pointed at Castiel’s head.

“Mordekai,” he answered, recognizing the former angel unlike the others. 

“Kariel is waiting with the Winchesters. Come with us.” The former angel nodded his blond head toward the door behind them, though Castiel took a moment instead of moving.

“Do you truly believe this is the right thing to do, Mordekai?” Castiel asked, keeping his hands up.

“You destroyed our family and had us removed from Heaven, Castiel. Kariel is right. You deserve punishment for your actions.” From the look on his brother’s face, Castiel could tell Mordekai meant every word.

“The Winchesters had nothing to do with any of this, though. It was myself and Metatron. They shouldn’t even be here, brother.” It was a longshot to try and get his brother to see reason, but he knew it wouldn’t happen when Mordekai shook his head.

“The Winchesters were the best way to get to you. It had to be done. Now come inside.” Both of his brothers stepped back, giving Castiel a wide berth so he could enter the factory ahead of them.

Resigned, Castiel made his way past the two armed men and into the shadows of the factory. It was dark with muted light along the entryway, but ahead he could see light coming from an open doorway. The interior smelled of must and decay, the building having long been abandoned by the look and smell of it.

It was when they approached the doorway that he felt a hand at his back, shoving him into the room. He almost lost his footing but managed to remain upright, eyes narrowed as he took in his new surroundings.

Sam and Dean were across the room from the doorway against the back wall. Dean was bleeding from a small head wound at his temple and Sam had a bloody nose. Both looked like they’d seen better days judging by the visible cuts and bruises, but both were also bound tightly to the chairs they were seated in. They must’ve been searched upon being captured otherwise they would’ve been able to get out of their bonds long before this. Sure enough, when he looked, there were the small leather kits with both Dean and Sam’s tools in them on a dusty table.

When Dean’s gaze landed on him, his sounds of protest at Castiel’s presence were obvious despite the gag that muffled them. He strained against the ropes binding him to the chair and Castiel could see his knuckles turning white from the effort. Sam just looked worried that Castiel had come.

“I don’t think he’s happy to see you, Castiel,” Kariel said, stepping out of the shadows of the room with a long and lethal blade in his hand.

Castiel let his gaze linger on Dean’s only briefly before those blue eyes turned to the former angel that approached him while Mordekai and the remaining guard stood at the doorway, weapons still in hand. He said nothing in response as Kariel lifted the blade and trailed it slowly along his jaw in a grazing touch, but not nearly hard enough to break the skin.

“No hello for me, brother? Surely I deserve that much from you. After all, you are the reason we’re all here, aren’t you?” The smirk on Kariel’s face was chilling, though Castiel kept his own features impassive.

Kariel seemed to merely be amused by Castiel’s silence, letting the tip of his blade trail down the other man’s chest over the t-shirt that covered his skin. “You’re the reason we ended up this way. And the reason so many of our kin are dead. Did you really think trying to play God would work out in your favor, Castiel? Or that closing the gates to Heaven would?”

When Kariel’s words still earned no response, he brought the hand up that was holding his blade and struck Castiel across the face with his closed fist, the sharp edge of the knife drawing blood along his cheek. The blow sent Castiel to his knees, his head swimming, and he could vaguely hear Dean’s muffled cries of protest, his struggles renewed.

The warmth of his blood trailed down his jaw, but Castiel shook his head slightly to clear it and got right back up onto his feet. He didn’t take a step back when Kariel got in his face, brandishing the blade that was marked crimson with his own blood. “You will answer me, traitor, or I will carve your answers from their flesh.” Kariel jerked his head toward the Winchesters as he spoke.

“What is it that you wish me to say exactly, Kariel? I’ve said time and again that all I was trying to do was help. Putting Raphael into power and beginning the Apocalypse anew was in no one’s best interest. And closing the gates of Heaven was only meant to give us all a chance to settle the discord amongst us. Discord that I caused, yes, but that I wanted to put to rest. I’ve only wanted to atone ever since.” He stood his ground, seeing the anger flare in Kariel’s eyes at his words.

“All of this is your fault! There is no possible way you can atone for the things that you’ve done!” Kariel’s eyes were wide, a slightly manic look in them as he gripped the hilt of his knife tightly.

“Perhaps not, but that never meant I stopped trying to. Now, you have me here. I’ve done as you asked. Let the Winchesters leave. They aren’t part of this. You wanted me, now you have me. Let them go.” Castiel ignored the sounds that Dean made as the hunter jerked in his chair, fighting the ropes.

“But we worked so hard to get them here. Do you know how much effort it took to make the three of you believe there was demonic activity here for you to investigate? It was really rather tedious, but I think we managed nicely given the three of you came running.” Kariel smirked and stepped away from Castiel, approaching Sam and Dean.

He stopped once he was standing in front of the Winchesters, blade in hand. “I think we should have a bit of fun, don’t you, boys? Let’s test Castiel’s loyalty, shall we? For years you’ve chosen these two over your own family. How about we turn the tables a bit and make you choose between them?”

Kariel leaned down, head between Sam and Dean’s as he spoke in a stage whisper. “Though, I have a feeling I know which one he’s going to pick. Sorry, Sam.” He offered Sam a pat on the shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding the blade.

“I won’t choose between them.” Castiel shook his head, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. The gun that Dean had given him was tucked into an ankle holster under his jeans, but there was one knife on each forearm, tucked under the sleeves of his plaid overshirt. If he could find a way to arm himself and somehow take down Kariel or free one of the boys so they could help him, he stood a chance. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

“You will or I’ll kill them both right here and now,” Kariel stated, dragging the side of his blade along Dean’s cheek and leaving a smear of Castiel’s blood on the hunter’s skin in the process.

“Or you could just cut to the chase and do what you came here to do in the first place. You want to take every bit of your anger and misery out on me? Go ahead. I won’t stop you. But if you hurt them I’ll kill you with my bare hands if I have to. Make no mistake of that, Kariel. We’re both human now. We’re both painfully easier to kill.” He took a step toward Kariel and the boys then, inwardly relieved when his brother took the bait and came around Sam and Dean to face him once more.

Castiel moved when Kariel approached, circling the other man and watching as Kariel followed his movements, keeping Castiel in sight. Castiel stopped when his back was to Sam, keeping his right arm out of Kariel’s line of sight as well as the two men posted at the door. Then he shifted his arm enough for the knife to slide slowly out of its sheath beneath his sleeve until the hilt was exposed. He felt Sam’s fingers brush his skin before curling around the hilt of the knife, but he made sure to remain where he was standing to block Sam from the others.

“Castiel. I would love nothing more than to bury this knife in your chest and watch the light in your eyes fade, I assure you,” Kariel spoke, unaware that as he did so, Sam Winchester was furiously working to cut through the rope binding his arm to the chair behind Castiel’s back while trying to be as quiet as possible.

“I have no doubt of that, Kariel.” Though Castiel offered no further words of encouragement, knowing his brief answers would only entice Kariel to continue speaking.

“I’m pleased we’re on the same page then. But I cannot merely kill you outright, Castiel. That would solve nothing. No, first I want to make you suffer as you have made your brothers and sisters suffer. And the best way to do that is through them. We both know it. All of Heaven knew of your attachment to the Winchester boys, Castiel. It was never a secret. Though, perhaps I should call you ‘Cas.’ Dean seems rather fond of doing so, don’t you, Dean?” Kariel cast a glance over Castiel’s shoulder toward the silent hunter who glared in response. 

It was as Kariel directed his attention to Dean that he heard the sound of Sam cutting through the first set of ropes. He knew the others had heard it as well when Kariel’s eyes widened and the two by the door straightened, lifting their weapons. It was now or never.

Castiel moved forward quickly, blocking the boys as much as he could with his own body while slamming into Kariel and using their momentum to shove the two of them into the pair by the door. He went down with them, but it gave Sam enough time to free himself and rush forward to help Castiel. 

It was when Castiel felt a sharp pain in his side that he knew things could end up going downhill very quickly if he didn’t act fast. He’d landed atop Kariel and by extension, Kariel’s blade. He felt the warmth of his blood spreading from his side, his shirt darkening with it, but he didn’t let that stop him.

Quickly pulling his other knife from the sheath at his left arm, he jumped up and plunged it into the chest of the guard who was pointing his gun at Sam as the hunter dealt with Mordekai before Sam could be shot in the back. Both Mordekai and the remaining guard fell to the ground dead, Mordekai’s throat now sporting a gaping wound where Sam had sliced through it.

Castiel’s vision wavered and he looked down to see the hilt of Kariel’s knife sticking out of his abdomen on the right side of his body. The pain was hitting him full force and he slumped against the wall before sliding down it onto the floor. He heard Sam call his name, heard Dean screaming beneath the gag, but his gaze landed on Kariel as the former angel rose to his feet, rage in his eyes.

Kariel lunged for the knife sticking out of the chest of the corpse nearest him, pulling it out with a jerk of his hand. And with one last malicious look toward Castiel, he went straight for Dean.

Time seemed to move in slow motion around him and Castiel watched Kariel race toward Dean, the blade of the knife glinting crimson. The hunter’s eyes widened, but he could go nowhere or do anything to defend himself.

Dimly, Castiel felt himself move, his hands reaching for his ankle and the holster that rested there. It was one last surge of adrenaline that had him gripping his gun and drawing it, clicking the safety off in half a second then using every bit of his strength that remained to hold his hand steady as he fired.

The gunshot was loud, reverberating in Castiel’s ears as the bullet went through Kariel’s head barely a second before he could drive the blade home into Dean’s body. His corpse joined the others on the dusty floor and Castiel felt his strength leaving him. The blade was agony in his side as his hand dropped limp to the floor, the gun sliding from his slack hand.

His vision was growing dark, eyelids feeling as if they were far too heavy for the effort that it took to keep them open. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was a pair of emerald eyes filled with fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


	4. Epilogue: Reaffirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Arkansas, Dean finds himself desperate for reassurance that only Castiel can give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last installment of 'The Choices We Make'! Thank you for your feedback and for sticking with it. I hope you guys enjoy it! This epilogue pretty much ensures I have to bump the fic rating up to Explicit, but I don't think you guys will mind that. Enjoy! <3

Life for Castiel had narrowed down to the bunker with Dean. Odd that Sam and Kevin were never around, but Castiel couldn’t complain really. It gave him more time with his hunter.

He was perched on the edge of the counter in the kitchen, letting Dean spoon feed him some apple pie and couldn’t have been happier. Dean seemed so much happier than usual and the lines of worry that were usually on his face were notably absent. Castiel was pleased to see him that way.

It was after Dean fed him another bite of pie and stole a kiss that things began to seem a little off. The room was becoming a little fuzzy at the edges and Castiel had to grip the counter to remain upright where he was seated.

“Dean…?” he said, barely able to get his hunter’s name out. “Dean, what’s happening?”

The kitchen was fading around them and all he could see was Dean. The happy expression Dean had worn all this time was gone, replaced with worry. His lips were moving, but Castiel couldn’t make out anything Dean was saying.

“Dean, I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said, shaking his head slowly in an effort to clear it. There was a sharp pain in his right side that left him gasping, but finally, he could hear Dean’s voice. It was faint, but he managed to make out the words.

“Cas, c’mon, please. You gotta wake up for me.” Dean was scared. Castiel could hear it in his voice. He didn’t want Dean to be scared. But he was already awake. Wasn’t he?

He opened his mouth to tell Dean just that, but then the kitchen as well as Dean vanished, leaving him in darkness that only faded when his eyes opened. When had they closed?

The sheer effort it took to even open them in the first place surprised Castiel. The light in the room was bright and he winced slightly as he closed his eyes once more, seeing spots beneath his lids. The hiss that accompanied it must have been heard because Dean’s voice came to him again, a hand gripping his own tightly.

“Cas! Oh, God, you scared the shit out of me!” His side hurt like hell, but he didn’t offer any protest when he felt Dean carefully pull him into his arms. Castiel’s head was resting on Dean’s shoulder, but he couldn’t open his eyes again as much as he wanted to. He was just too tired. He didn’t understand that, though. He’d been fine just a few minutes ago. Had he passed out?

“Cas, come on, baby. Open your eyes for me, please…” Dean murmured near his ear and Castiel wanted so much to give Dean what he asked for. He just couldn’t. His eyelids were too heavy and it was too bright in the room for him. 

“Dean,” he murmured, surprised at the way his voice sounded. Like he hadn’t spoken in weeks or had anything to drink.

“Yeah, Cas, I’m here. It’s all right. You’re all right. We got you to the hospital in time. Doc says you’ll be just fine,” Dean whispered against his skin in an effort to reassure, stroking his hand through Castiel’s dark hair. Dean’s touch was comforting and Castiel tried to lean into it, but all he could manage was to shift his head slightly against Dean’s shoulder.

“Easy, baby. Go back to sleep if you need to. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Dean’s voice was thicker, wavering slightly, and Castiel wondered why. What had happened to leave him this way and leave Dean so upset? The hunter’s words were only too easy to follow, however, the darkness creeping up on him once more. Only this time it was the comforting promise of sleep that beckoned.

“Love you,” he managed to whisper to Dean before sleep claimed him in its healing embrace.

He didn’t see the smile on Dean’s face or feel the way the hunter kissed his lips softly in response before whispering gently against them. “I love you, too.”

**One Month Later**

“Dean. Really. I can handle simple chores. The doctor said so.” Castiel sighed as he was unceremoniously yet gently dumped into the softest armchair the living room sported by his hunter.

Dean shook his head, shifting on his feet to begin gathering up the dirty dishes Castiel himself had sought to pick up. “Not taking any chances. You just sit right there and watch television or something. Me and Sam can clean up our own messes.”

“You won’t let me clean. You won’t let me workout. You won’t even let me shower on my own. Dean… I’m on the mend. Even the doctor said I could start handling easy tasks again.” Castiel rose to his feet once more and took the small stack of plates from Dean’s hands, shaking his head.

“Cas, I really think you just need to take it easy for a little while longer, okay? Humor me, man.” Dean reached for the plates again, but Castiel was already walking out of the room and toward the kitchen to deposit the dishes into the sink for washing.

“Cas!” Dean protested, following the former angel’s progress from the living room, close on his heels.

“Dean!” he mocked, rolling his eyes as he set the dishes into the sink.

Sam looked up from where he sat at the table with his laptop, glancing between Castiel and Dean.

“Still not letting you lift a finger, Cas?” Sam inquired, a grin curling his lips as he regarded the indignant look on his brother’s face as well as the exasperated one on Castiel’s.

“Not one inch,” Castiel said, turning on the water to run them over the dishes and rinse everything off.

“He’s not ready!” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the dishes in the sink as if they’d somehow personally offended him by being there so Castiel could wash them.

“Dean. Two different doctors said he was ready. He even says he’s ready. You’re the only one that says he isn’t. He just wants to be up and about more, to try to get back into his routine a bit. He’s not asking to tackle another hunt or anything. Just let him do it,” Sam said, lowering the screen of his laptop and shutting it with a quiet click.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said, giving Sam a smile over his shoulder as he reached for a sponge to begin cleaning the dishes.

“You’re welcome, Cas.” Sam’s words only earned a glare from Dean as he looked from his boyfriend to his brother.

“What the hell is this? Gang up on Dean Day?” he muttered, eyes narrowed.

“That’s every day. Today we’re just trying to get you to see reason,” Sam supplied helpfully, picking up his laptop and tucking it under his arm. “Let me know if you need help with anything, Cas.”

“I will, Sam,” the former angel said as he began scrubbing a plate while Sam left the room.

“Seriously, Cas-” Dean began, only to have Castiel cut him off.

“Dean, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘you’re not ready’, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions. I. Am. Ready. And you need to come to terms with that. I’m grateful for your concern, but I’m almost fully healed and I can start doing little things again. Please, just let me do them. Let me have some normalcy, Dean.” Castiel set the sponge aside, putting the plate back in the sink and turning the water off so he could turn and look at Dean, idly drying his hands with a dish towel.

Castiel set the towel aside and reached up to frame Dean’s face gently between his palms. “I’m here, Dean. I’m all right. I haven’t left you and I’m not going to. I know asking you to stop worrying about the people you care about is like asking you to move a mountain, but I want you to at least try to back off a bit and let me do this at my own pace. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Dean’s eyes closed when he felt Castiel’s hands at his face, shifting to let his forehead rest against the other man’s. “It’s hard, angel,” he murmured, lifting his hands to curl his fingers around Castiel’s wrists, reassured when he felt the former angel’s pulse beating beneath the skin.

“I know, Dean, but I need you to try for me.” Castiel smiled at the term of endearment, leaning in as he whispered against Dean’s skin to softly kiss his cheek. 

Dean turned his head so that Castiel’s kiss met his lips instead. Their kisses since Castiel had awoken in the hospital in Arkansas then come home to the bunker had been soft and sweet, as if Dean was afraid he’d hurt him somehow. But this...this was completely different.

Dean kissed him now like his very life depended on it. Perhaps it did. He’d been completely devoted to Castiel since Arkansas and he wondered if perhaps Dean hadn’t taken the time to come to terms with the events that had occurred on the last hunt. It was Dean, after all. Pushing down his emotions to deal with the situation at hand was sort of how he worked.

So Castiel offered no objections to his hunter’s kiss, nor the way Dean’s hands rose to fist gently in his hair. Castiel merely gave as good as he was given, his own hands coming to rest at the hunter’s sides.

He vaguely registered the sound of footsteps entering and Sam’s voice saying something about forgetting his power cord for the laptop before Dean carefully hoisted him up in his arms and started walking him out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the hunter’s room.

Castiel heard Sam mutter something about lousy timing, but all he did was wrap his legs around Dean’s waist as Dean carried him down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. All the while, Dean’s mouth was never idle, first on Castiel’s mouth, then along his jaw and neck.

Well. He had asked for Dean to stop worrying so much, hadn’t he? This hadn’t been what he had in mind originally, but as Dean gently laid him down on his memory foam mattress, Castiel wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

Despite the passion of his kisses, Dean’s touch was so gentle, so careful, not wanting to cause Castiel any pain and ever mindful of the still healing wound at his side. His hands stroked and caressed over what bare skin he could find, lips seeking the former angel’s again and again.

“Cas, please…” he murmured between those kisses, his fingertips ghosting under the hem of Castiel’s shirt. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need you…”

There was no other response he could give save “Then have me.” He smiled against the hunter’s lips after uttering those words, kissing him softly while trailing his fingers through sandy brown hair.

Dean’s breath caught upon hearing Castiel’s response. They’d never gone so far before and Dean felt like it was his first sexual encounter all over again. Paired with the fact that Castiel was on the mend still made him doubly nervous. But he knew how badly he needed this despite feeling selfish for doing so. 

He’d been terrified when he’d first noticed that Castiel was hurt. That terror hadn’t lessened even after they’d managed to get him to the hospital and the doctors had fixed him up. Even after returning to Lebanon it lingered, fearful that at any moment Castiel would suddenly be gone. It was irrational given the fact that Castiel was healing well and would be fine in a matter of weeks, but Dean couldn’t shake it.

He needed this. Needed to feel Castiel warm and alive against him. Needed to lose himself in his lover’s body, knowing that he was there and safe with him. He needed it more than he needed his next breath it seemed.

So, carefully, he worked at divesting Castiel of his clothing, tossing each garment aside as it was removed until that pale body was revealed in all its glory beneath him. The pink line of a fresh scar marred the fair skin over his abdomen, white in the center. The stitches had only just been removed a few days ago, but Dean could still see the knife sticking out of his lover’s body along with the scarlet blood that covered the skin around the wound and soaked into Castiel’s clothing.

He lowered his head, tenderly kissing around the wound as his hands stroked along Castiel’s bare sides. Dean kept his senses trained on the man beneath him, alert for any sign of pain or discomfort at all and ready to stop the second any occurred. But none did.

Castiel offered wordless encouragement by stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair or arching his back gently when Dean’s lips trailed over a particularly sensitive spot. So far, it wasn’t anything like how either of them had pictured their first time together being. If anything, it was better. Dean’s touch made Castiel feel alive in ways he’d never felt before while reaffirming that very life’s presence for the hunter.

It was a gentle urgency that drove Dean and had him reaching into the drawer of his bedside table for the bottle of lubricant he’d started keeping there. Even as his lips trailed over the shaft of Castiel’s erection once he reached it, he was coating his fingers with the cool liquid as his lover moaned softly from his attentions.

Gently, Dean spread Castiel’s legs further to give him more room, brushing one slick fingertip against the puckered opening he found there. He knew since it was Castiel’s first time he would have to tread carefully, so he waited until he’d distracted the former angel by lowering his mouth fully onto his lover’s erection to slowly press his finger inside of that tight heat.

Castiel gasped at the intrusion, but Dean’s mouth was working its magic on him, leaving him groaning beneath the hunter with his legs spread to ease Dean’s entry. It burned, but Castiel did his best to relax the muscles around Dean’s finger, his hand moving down to gently grip Dean’s hair.

Dean’s head bobbed up and down on his length slowly, keeping his finger still inside of Castiel so let him get used to its presence. Only when he felt Castiel relax further did he move his hand, gently thrusting the digit in and out of his lover’s body.

The first time Dean managed to graze Castiel’s prostate, he felt his lover’s back arch, a shocked cry leaving Castiel’s lips. There was no pain that Dean could tell, however, so he continued his movements, only adding a second slick finger once he was sure that Castiel was ready.

Like before, he eased the digit into Castiel’s entrance, moving it inside of him slowly along with his index finger. As he licked and teased the head of Castiel’s length with his tongue, he gradually began to scissor the two fingers inside of his lover’s body to stretch him a little further in preparation.

Dean knew there would be time for proper foreplay later, but today, right now, all that mattered was Castiel, there beneath him and pleading with those dark blue, lust blown eyes for more. His lover was there, warm and alive and Dean had to have him, had to claim him for his own, mind, body and soul.

When Dean brought a third finger into play was when Castiel showed the first signs of pain. It made the hunter ease up immediately, stretching him a bit more with the first two fingers before carefully inserting the third. The burn took a little longer to fade, but after a few seconds, Castiel’s hips were canting slightly to press down onto Dean’s fingers, soft sighs and moans escaping the dark haired man once he was used to feeling so full. But he knew there was much more to come.

Now Dean brought out the bottle of lubricant once more, slicking up his hardened flesh liberally and giving Castiel’s erection one last long lick before he shifted to rest fully between his partner’s thighs. The head of his cock brushed Castiel’s opening and Dean knew there could be no turning back at this point. For either of them. Not with the way Castiel was looking at him and the way his body screamed for his angel.

It was a slow process to enter Castiel fully once he finally began. He could see his lover’s discomfort clearly on his face despite his efforts to be as gentle as possible. All Dean could do was try to whisper soothing words to Castiel even though all thought processes he possessed wanted to come to a screeching halt at the press of that tight heat around his aching erection. Still, Dean whispered his praises into his lover’s ear, stroking his face softly as he carefully pressed into Castiel’s body.

He stopped moving when he was inside of Castiel completely, a low groan escaping the hunter as he gripped the sheets on either side of Castiel’s head with clenched fists. The effort it took not to move and give his angel time to adjust was Herculean. Dean was panting, but his entire focus remained on Castiel who was breathing slowly, in and out as he adjusted to Dean filling him.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries to Dean but was, in fact, only minutes, Castiel lifted his head from the pillow to brush a sweet kiss to his hunter’s lips while shifting his hips slightly beneath Dean. A silent indication that he could move when he wanted to.

Dean was careful not to let his weight rest atop Castiel, bracing himself on his elbows and knees instead as he slowly began to move. He felt the shudder that ran through Castiel’s body as his hips moved, slowly pulling his erection out then gently pressing it back in again, then repeating the process.

That was how Dean built up his rhythm, slow and steady, yet somehow just as fulfilling as it would have been were he able to thrust into his lover’s body freely, as hard and fast as they both desired. But the pace he set seemed perfect for both of them once Castiel wasn’t suffering from any further discomfort, the former angel’s hands dragging across the expanse of Dean’s back, groaning as Dean filled him repeatedly.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, the hunter’s name both a plea and a prayer as he dragged Dean’s mouth back to his for a kiss. Dean was happy to comply and while he returned Castiel’s kiss, he moved his right hand down to curl around his lover’s erection to stroke the shaft in time with his thrusts.

Castiel seemed to particularly enjoy it when Dean brushed his thumb over the tip so he made sure to do that as often as he could, knowing that anything that could bring Castiel to his release faster in this case was a good thing. Given the tight heat that enveloped his own rigid flesh, Dean knew it wouldn’t take long for him to reach his own climax as well.

Castiel gave soft, keening cries as Dean continued to move inside of him, all along working Castiel’s shaft with his fist until Dean felt his lover’s muscles clench even tighter around him. That was the only warning he got before the former angel came apart beneath him, the warmth of his orgasm covering Dean’s hand as well as Castiel’s abdomen.

The sight of Castiel, lost in the throes of his orgasm as he cried out Dean’s name was the hunter’s undoing, burying his face in Castiel’s neck as he filled him with his own release, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and erratic until they finally stilled.

Both men were left panting on the bed, their bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat as they laid tangled together atop the sheets. Even in the aftermath of their lovemaking they clung to each other, feeling the way their hearts raced. Both were safe, whole in the other’s presence and embrace. 

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, his voice slightly breathless still from their exertions. He shifted to lie on his side next to Castiel, draping his arm carefully around the former angel’s middle with his head resting Cas’ shoulder.

“I love you, too, Dean,” Castiel whispered in turn, shifting his head enough to brush a light kiss to the hunter’s forehead and moving his arm to wrap it around Dean as the hunter curled up beside him.

Sleep came quickly after that and far easier than it had in the weeks since their return from Arkansas. Yet just before Castiel succumbed to it, his lips curled in a soft smile as one last thought crossed his mind.

He’d most definitely made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


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